


Mindful

by Zaffie



Series: The Fateful Janitor's Closet [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Also Simmons And Triplett Might Flirt A Little Bit, And Then Romanoff Hung Out With The Team, And Ward Is A Douche, But He's A Mind-Wiped Douche, F/M, Gen, Hanna - Freeform, He Smiles A Lot, I don't know, I've Decided I Like Triplett Now, In Which Skye Has A Baby, Skye And Simmons Are BFFs Okay, So Really He's Less Of A Douche And More Of A Puppy, Tales Of Skye And Ward, This Is A Sequel Ok, does this count as an AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:29:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1596641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaffie/pseuds/Zaffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having successfully given birth, Skye has other issues to deal with. Like how her baby's father is a traitor and how his brain might possibly not exist anymore. And how to convince Natasha Romanoff to make a permanent move onto a plane with no spare bunks. It doesn't help that Hydra is still solidly set on their tail - and Garrett is after Skye.</p><p>But on the plus side, her stretch marks are totally fading. So there's that.</p><p>This is a sequel to Screwed. It is absolutely imperative that you read that fic first or this will make no sense, I guarantee it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help! I'm Stuck On A Plane With A Mind-Wiped Ex-Boyfriend And A Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Ha ha! Here we are, folks. I hope you all think this is worth it! I swerved from my original plan, which was to wrap up Hanna's babyhood in Screwed and have this contain a chunk of her future - instead, I had a fun idea which I will be writing out in this sequel. I'm going to stick with the future idea, though, because I want to write that - either as an epilogue to this fic, or as a third story in the series.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on Screwed - you are all amazing! Now let's see if we can repeat that. :D

Skye wakes up from a nightmare and reaches over to the bassinet instantly, because yeah, it might be selfish to wake up her child just because she wants a cuddle, but she’s a selfish person.

     Hanna doesn’t stir a whole lot, which is good, because if she’d cried and woken the rest of the bus then Skye really would have felt guilty. She feels her baby’s warmth, heavy in her arms, and presses her lips to Hanna’s smooth forehead. She smells like baby. Skye inhales the scent with weary gratitude.

     She thinks she’d been dreaming about Ward. It’s not exactly unusual, these days. Skye hasn’t seen him once in the three weeks since she arrived back on the bus after giving birth. Sometimes she wonders if staying away from him is making the nightmares worse.

     Skye checks to see if Hanna will feed, but the baby is tired and distracted and refuses to latch on. That’s fine, then. Gently, Skye lowers the child back into the bassinet, and then she pauses. See, normally, after a nightmare like this – one that has left her emotionally exhausted and soaked in sweat – she’d get up and wander the bus. But Skye hasn’t left Hanna alone in the past month. She can’t bring herself to do it, not with Ward so close.

     “So I’ll stay here, then,” she murmurs, and she lies back down and closes her eyes.

     She doesn’t sleep, though. Not for the rest of the night.

***

Unsurprisingly, in the morning Skye is red-eyed and exhausted. The rest of the team notices, because of course they do. They notice everything.

     “You know,” Jemma says timidly as Skye shovels cereal into her mouth with her eyes half-closed, “I’d be happy to have Hanna in my bunk. You know, just for one night, to give you a break.”

     Skye yawns and stretches the kinks out of her back. “Jemma,” she says, “as lucky as I feel to have a family consisting of six adults who all dote on my baby girl, I have to do this myself – for two reasons. The first is that I don’t trust _any_ of you right now…” she hears Jemma’s sharp gasp, but tries to ignore it, “and the second is that if I can only be a mother with six other people helping, then I can’t really be a mother at all. So yeah, I’m exhausted, but I can handle this.” Speech finished, Skye tips the remains of her gluggy cereal down the sink, picks up Hanna and stomps off to the bathroom.

     She’s found it difficult, to manage Hanna while she showers. But she reasons that leaving the baby lying on a towel on the bathroom floor for five minutes can’t be _that_ bad for her. Normally she’ll set Hanna on the towel, wash her hair, and then get out and grab the baby to bring Hanna into the shower for a minute or two. Given that the only options for baths on this plane are the kitchen sink or the bathroom downstairs, beside the med pod, Skye thinks she’s handling things pretty well.

     Refusing to go downstairs at all might be a little bit of a childish response to the situation – but all she knows is that Ward hasn’t left the med pod yet, and she feels safer up here. Away from him.

     Skye clucks and coos as she hoists Hanna up and steps back into the shower, holding the baby out of the heavier stream of water. She balances Hanna in the crook of her elbow and gently scoops up water with her other hand, splashing it across the baby’s arms, legs, belly and back.

     “You don’t need a daddy, do you, Hanna?” she murmurs. “Of course you don’t.”

     Hanna blinks up at the water and puts her fist in her mouth.

***

It’s Jemma who convinces Skye to bring Hanna down to the lab for her vaccinations. Skye is still speaking to Jemma – which is more than can be said for most of the rest of the team.

     “It’s important for Hanna,” Jemma says, stroking the baby’s cheek, so Skye agrees.

     Walking down a flight of metal stairs and balancing a baby in her arms is difficult. It requires all of her attention. Skye doesn’t see Ward until she’s at the bottom.

     He’s standing at the punching bag, engrossed in a steady rhythm of ‘jab-cross’, and for a minute he looks absolutely normal. Skye stares at him and feels as if she’s been drawn back into another time.

     Ward turns around. “Hello,” he says. He looks at Hanna and the corners of his mouth turn down in surprise. “Who’s that?”

     Skye pulls her eyebrows together and turns away from Ward with a wrench. She dashes into the lab and closes the bullet-proof glass door behind her and feels slightly better. “Jemma,” she says, furious. “He’s _here._ ”

     Absent-mindedly, the scientist looks up. She grimaces when she sees Ward. “Sorry,” she apologises. “I didn’t realise he’d be training today.”

     It’s the casual way in which she says it that sets Skye’s teeth on edge. “So, what, you’re just going to act like Ward’s back? Is that it?”

     Jemma picks up the warning signs, because she forces her attention away from the microscope and looks at Skye. “Don’t be angry with me,” she says in a low voice. “None of this was my idea. The difference between us is that I am not willing to take my frustration out on the completely innocent man out there.”

     “No,” Skye explodes. “The difference between us is that _I’m_ looking out for my daughter.” She presses Hanna to her chest and scuttles out of the lab and back up the stairs before anyone can say another word to her.

***

It’s Natasha who seeks Skye out a few hours later. She doesn’t bother knocking – just lets herself into the bunk.

     Skye looks up. “I suppose they sent you to come and talk some sense in to me.”

     “They did,” Natasha admits. “How are you?”

     “I feel like crap,” Skye says. “I’m bloody exhausted and my home has been infiltrated by enemy agents.”

     “I can see why that would be stressful,” Natasha agrees.

     Hanna cries, and Skye moves to pick her up, but the other woman gets there first. Natasha scoops the baby into her arms, rocks her, soothingly, and gives her the tip of a finger to suck on.

     “I just don’t know what to do,” Skye admits. She takes a shaky breath. “I feel so helpless.”

     “Then let us help you,” Natasha says quietly. She bends down and passes Hanna back to Skye, and of course, as soon as Skye is holding her, the baby starts crying again. Natasha slips out of the bunk and leaves Skye alone with her wailing daughter who probably likes red-haired assassins more than her.

     “I don’t know what you have to complain about,” she says to Hanna. “I’m the one with all the problems here.”

***

It takes her a couple of days to pluck up her courage, but she seeks out Jemma. She says, “I’m sorry.”

     “It’s already forgiven,” Jemma tells her sweetly.

     Skye hands Hanna to the scientist. “You can give her the vaccinations,” she says. “You can look after her for a little bit. I just need a few hours sleep.”

     “Any time.” Jemma looks up from Hanna’s face to Skye’s and says seriously, “Skye. You can ask me to do this _any time_. We’re family.”

     “I know,” Skye sighs. “But Ward… he’s not.”

     “It will take time,” Jemma promises, “but we’ll sort this out. All of us. Together.”


	2. Settling

 

There are faded petals dropping onto Skye’s bunk; flowers wilting and drooping all around her. Her first Mother’s Day was nearly three weeks ago, but she can’t bring herself to throw the dead flowers away. They symbolise something; something that Skye can’t verbalise yet. So the flowers stay.

     When she walks out of her first solo shower in _over a month_ and into the kitchen with a towel around her shoulders, the first thing she sees is Hanna lying on the kitchen counter. The baby girl is wearing a pale yellow onesie with green leaves and pink roses twining around it, and she looks incredibly cute. She’s on her back, huge dark eyes staring up, and Jemma is leaning over her and waving a bit of tin foil around.

     “Are you in a cult?” Skye asks as she walks up. She plucks the foil out of Jemma’s hand and examines it. “Is this some kind of weird ritual?”

     “Don’t be silly,” Jemma says. She takes the foil back from Skye and says, “I’m helping Hanna to follow movement. Watch.” She wiggles the foil in front of Hanna until the baby’s eyes fixate on it, and then she starts slowly waving it side-to-side. Hanna’s eyes – and her whole head – track the movement of the foil.

     “Huh,” Skye murmurs, impressed.

     “See?” Jemma exclaims, and then she starts moving the foil up and down. This time, though, Hanna’s eyes break away and land right on Skye.

     It takes her breath away, making eye contact with her five-week-old daughter. Hanna’s eyes look like they contain the entire universe somewhere in their dark depths. Skye wonders if she ever looked this profoundly wise.

     “Are you going to do things like this with Hanna often?” she asks Jemma, mostly teasing. She dodges around her friend to grab a mug from the cupboard.

     “Not _very_ often,” Jemma lies. She is an appalling liar. “But did you know that a newborn baby can dangle from its hands for up to five minutes?”

     “Please don’t dangle my daughter from her hands.”

     “A newborn baby chimpanzee can hang for up to _fifteen_ minutes.”

     Skye stares at Jemma. “No, _Fitz_ , I did not know that about baby chimpanzees.”

     Jemma shrugs, unconcerned. “I suppose he’s rubbing off on me a little,” she admits. “It’s only to be expected. We have lived together for… years.”

     “You can’t even remember how many years,” Skye teases. She crosses to the coffee machine and Triplett saunters into the kitchen.

     “Hey,” he says, nodding at both of them. He beams at Hanna. “Hey, Hanna.”

     Hanna doesn’t say anything, but she stares at Trip’s face as he walks past her.

     “I do remember how many years!” Jemma protests. “It’s… seven. Seven. Eight.”

     “What are we talking about?” Trip asks. He puts a hand on Skye’s hip and moves her out of the way so that he can get to the cutlery drawer.

     “How long Fitzsimmons have lived together,” Skye tells him. She steps back as he closes the door and starts making herself a cappuccino.

     “Oh. It’s nine years,” Trip supplies helpfully. “Definitely nine.”

     “Yes! Exactly,” Jemma sighs, and then she frowns. “Hold on. How do you know that?”

     Trip laughs, bending down to grab a plate from the cupboard. “What? Fitz and I are bros. Bros talk.”

     “Since when are you two bros?” Skye asks. “Wait, never mind. I don’t care. I support your bromance.”

     “Thanks, Skye,” Trip smiles. “I’ll tell Fitz.”

     Jemma steps closer to Skye and hisses, “Bromance? What’s a bromance?”

     “I’ll tell you later,” Skye says.

     Jemma reaches around her friend and removes the mug of coffee. “If it’s anything like manscaping, I don’t want to know,” she says, and takes a sip.

     “Hey! That’s mine!” Skye yelps.

     “Manscaping?” Trip asks. He shudders. “Why are we talking about manscaping?”

     “No, it’s funny, because it’s a play on the word landscaping,” Jemma explains. “Just with ‘man’.” She holds the coffee up high, out of Skye’s reach.

     Trip depresses the button on the toaster and mutters, “I understand the play on words, I just… don’t know why we need to discuss it.”

     “Give me my coffee!”

     “It’s our safe word,” Jemma says.

     Skye rolls her eyes. “You’re not supposed to _tell_ him that, you blithering idiot.”

     “You’re not supposed to drink coffee while breast-feeding,” Jemma reminds her sternly. “Or alcohol. Or fish.”

     “I’m not planning to _drink_ fish,” Skye points out, “and that breastfeeding book you gave me says that one or two cups of coffee is okay.”

     “That book is a lie,” Jemma proclaims. She pours the remainder of the coffee down the sink.

     Triplett, buttering his toast in the corner, sniggers to himself. Skye is about to reprimand him and then possibly make herself a new cup of coffee, but Hanna starts howling and all three of them drop what they’re doing and head towards the baby.

     Trip gets there first. “What’s up, baby girl?” he asks sweetly, and he picks Hanna up, supporting her head the way Jemma has been teaching him, and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

     “She’s probably hungry,” Skye realises. “I haven’t fed her in a couple of hours.”

     “See?” Jemma says sweetly. “Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you drink that coffee? She wouldn’t have napped all day with that in her system.”

     “Maybe if she isn’t napping she’ll sleep at night,” Skye mumbles, but she takes Hanna from Trip and lets him return to his toast while she perches on one of the bar stools and opens her shirt.

***

Skye asks May, because she isn’t speaking to Coulson. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you had brainwashing equipment on the bus.”

     “It was for Coulson,” May says simply. “Fury put it here. Fitz was the one who knew how to use it.”

   Skye goes looking for Fitz. “Was it hard, programming Ward’s brain?”

     “I knew you’d come about this,” he mutters glumly. “I’m sorry, Skye.”

     “How could you do it? You were the only one who still believed in him. How could you… destroy him like that?”

     “He begged me, Skye. You didn’t see him. He was desperate.”

     “He was clearly _insane_ ,” Skye snorts. “His entire self is gone.”

     “Maybe,” Fitz says quietly, “you should talk to him. Maybe if you talked to him you’d find that’s not quite true.”


	3. Changes

“Do you remember your childhood?” Skye asks bluntly.

     Ward turns towards her. “You don’t talk to me very often,” he says thoughtfully. “Why not?”

     She folds her arms and plants her feet. “Answer the question.”

     “You have a baby,” Ward says instead. He gestures towards the punching bag. “Do you know how to punch this?”

     “Yes,” Skye says.

     “Me too,” Ward admits. “Who taught you?”

 “A friend,” Skye says. “He’s gone now.”

     “I don’t know who taught me,” Ward says. “Isn’t that strange?”

     “Tell me what you remember,” Skye says. “Do you have any brothers?”

     “No,” Ward says cheerily. “Do you?”

     Skye says, “No. What about your parents?”

     “I don’t think I was ever a child,” Ward says, and that doesn’t seem unusual to him. “I had a dog, once.”

     “When?”

     “I don’t know. Before now.” He frowns. “I wonder where my dog went?”

     “Ward,” Skye says seriously. “Do you know what Hydra is?”

     “They ask me that a lot,” Ward tells her. “They won’t explain why.”

     “What _do_ you remember?”

     “I’m not sure,” Ward says. “I’m confused a lot.” His face falls.

     Skye wants to feel sorry for him – this lost, lonely little boy. But she can’t. She has to steel her heart, to remember who he is, and _what he did_ , and stay strong. For Hanna.

     “What about Garrett?” she pushes. “Do you remember him?”

     Ward presses his cheek against the punching bag. “What’s your baby’s name?”

     Abruptly, Skye turns away from him. That’s enough for today. She can’t handle any more of this. She walks up the stairs with her back ramrod straight and ignores Ward calling after her. If she’s going to start talking to him again, it’s going to have to be in small doses. This is too painful for her.

***

“Did you talk to him?” Trip asks when she goes to recover Hanna from him. The baby is sleeping on Triplett’s lap while the man reads.

     “I did,” Skye admits. She sits down hard, not ready to take Hanna back just yet.

     “What did you think?” Trip tries carefully, like he’s gauging her response.

     “I don’t know,” Skye sighs. “I can’t see anything of Ward that’s left. He’s like a child – but worse, somehow. I don’t understand how they can do this to a person.”

     “I agree with you,” Trip says, “but maybe talk to Jemma. She’s spent more time with him than I have. And I didn’t know Ward very well before.”

     “He doesn’t remember his childhood,” Skye says. “Does that mean it was his childhood that made him this way? Because his brother beat him up?”

     “I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe in blaming everything in life on one’s childhood,” Triplett says seriously. “What sort of a person did your childhood mould you into?”

     Skye thinks about it. She thinks about the religious brainwashing and the beatings and the punishments. She thinks about the other children in the foster home. She thinks about being shuttled from one place to another, of never believing anyone loved her, of wanting to hate the world.

     Then she thinks about the stubborn search that led her to the Rising Tide. The empathy that made her want to join SHIELD – not just to find answers, but to protect people. The belief she has that she carves out her own path through the universe – that life is an accident, not a divine plan.

     “I could have turned out much worse,” she answers Triplett, and she pulls Hanna away from his legs and walks to her bunk, to put the baby in the bassinet and maybe grab a quick nap before the child awakens.

***

When Hanna wakes up in the middle of the night and grizzles through her feed and then keeps grizzling when Skye tries to put her back down, Skye sings to her.

     She wants to sing lullabies and nursery rhymes, but she doesn’t know any. No one ever sung Skye to sleep. So she sings anything that comes to mind – Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, ABBA and the Beatles. By the time Hanna finally falls asleep, Skye has put her iPod on shuffle and is singing along softly with whatever starts playing.

     It’s hard, to manoeuvre the baby back into the bassinet. Eventually Skye just gives up, and she lies down on her front and lets Hanna lie on her chest, the baby’s arms and legs curled close to her body, breathing slowly, pillowing her cheek against Skye.

     “I love you,” Skye tells the little girl, because she hasn’t said it in a while. “I know that it’s going to be tough for you, growing up, but you’re just going to have to soldier on like I did.” She pauses, and imagines Hanna’s life. It’s… wow. It’s a crazy thought. “I just hope you always know that your mama loves you,” she whispers to the baby. “I don’t want that to be something you forget. I love you, Hanna, and I always wanted you to be mine.”

***

“Do you want to learn how to change a nappy?” Skye asks Fitzsimmons as she walks past.

     Fitz looks up and says, “Not particularly.”

     Jemma, on the other hand, leaps to her feet. “Yes,” she says decisively, and trails after Skye.

     “Did you know a baby baboon weighs four-hundred grams at birth?” Fitz calls after them.

     Skye puts Hanna down on the bench when they reach the bathroom and starts to unbutton the baby’s onesie, cooing at her to keep her distracted.

     “I wanted to talk to you,” she says to Jemma eventually, and then steps aside so that the scientist can have access to the nappy.

     “Is it Ward?” Jemma asks. “Trip said you spoke to him.”

     “What is going on between you two?” Skye asks, and then she shakes her head. “Wait, never mind. Tell me later. I don’t want to be distracted.” She hands Jemma a couple of wipes, takes the dirty nappy from her and chucks it in the bin under the sink. “What do you think about Ward, then?”

     “I’ve always been a big believer that personality is genetic; not influenced by life events. Nature, not nurture,” Jemma explains. “So by that logic, Ward should be exactly the same person.”

     “But?” Skye asks, because she can hear it coming.

     “If he’s the same person, isn’t he still the person who betrayed us?”

     Skye freezes. “You think… he can’t be trusted?”

     “No, Skye, I wasn’t finished,” Jemma says sternly. She smiles at Hanna as she fastens the side of the nappy. “I think that it’s pretty obvious he’s _not_ the same person who betrayed us – but he’s still Ward. It’s just parts of him which are gone. I’m forced to conclude that my theory… may be incorrect.”

     “He doesn’t feel like Ward to me,” Skye says. “He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know Hanna. Everything about him is different.”

     “Give him a chance,” Jemma says. “The world is all new to him now. He just needs time.” She pops closed the last button on Hanna’s onesie and hands the baby back to Skye with a smile. “There, now. All clean.”

     Skye takes Hanna and holds the baby against her shoulder, loving the warmth and the smell of her, feeling grounded by the way Hanna’s little hand clutches at her skin through her shirt. “I have nothing but time,” she says to Jemma with a sigh.


	4. Noted

Skye walks into the lounge to find that Triplett has been joined by Fitz since she left him, and the two of them are engaged playing what looks like a game of Scrabble in which both of them are cheating. Hanna is lying on her back on the sofa between them, snug and happy.

     “Magoo is not a word,” Skye points out as she walks past the game. She bends over to pick up Hanna and the baby gives a high-pitched trill – the first sound Skye has ever heard her make. She freezes.

     “That is so cool!” Trip exclaims enthusiastically.

     “Make her do it again,” Fitz agrees.

     Skye picks Hanna up and tucks the baby into the crook of her arm and Hanna trills again, high and sweet. Then she clicks her tongue and makes an ‘ahhh’ sound.

     “Hi,” Skye coos at her. “Hi, Hanna!”

     Hanna obliges with another ‘ahhh’.

     “Did you know,” Trip begins, “that a baby capuchin monkey-”

     Skye groans. “I swear, if I hear another baby monkey fact from _anyone_ …” she leaves her threat unfinished and hanging in the air, turns on her heel and walks towards the kitchen.

     “I’m interested, Trip,” Fitz says comfortingly. “You can tell me about the tiny baby monkeys.”

***

Skye walks past the stairs and nearly smacks right into Ward. She takes a step back and swears.

     Ward looks at her. “That’s colourful language.”

     Skye stares at him. “You know swearwords?”

     “Well, yes,” Ward says. He squirms awkwardly under her gaze. “I just choose not to use them unless in times of extreme stress.”

     “This is a time of extreme stress,” Skye informs him. “Why are you up here?”

     Ward looks puzzled, although the permanent lost-and-confused look he’d had last time they’d spoken is no longer on his face. “I wanted to play a board game,” he says. “Coulson told me there were some in the cupboard.”

     “Coulson should have come to get one himself,” Skye mutters darkly.

     But Ward is no longer paying attention to her. Instead, he’s looking curiously at the baby in her arms. “Is it a boy or a girl?” he asks.

     “What?”

     Ward points. “Your baby.”

     Skye doesn’t want to tell him, but she’s promised herself she’ll make more of an effort. “Girl.”

     “Oh,” Ward says. “I thought it was a boy.” He frowns for a minute, like something is upsetting him. Skye waits. Eventually, Ward’s brow smooths out and he asks, “What’s her name?”

     This, Skye isn’t ready for. “None of your business,” she snaps, and she storms past him and into her bunk, where she’s safe. Inside, she leans her forehead against the door and breathes heavily. It’s clearly just going to get harder for her to avoid Ward. She needs to talk to Coulson.

***

“Oh look,” Coulson says conversationally when she arrives. “It’s Skye.” He nudges May in the ribs. “This is a rare sighting indeed.”

     May places her hand over the spot where his elbow hit and glares at him. She doesn’t even need to say anything. Coulson presses his lips together and takes a step away from her.

     “I’m still furious,” Skye says, “with both of you. So don’t think this is a forgiving errand.”

     “You’re acting like a child,” May tells her blandly.

     “Whatever. It was Coulson I wanted.”

     Apparently May can take a hint, because she shrugs and moves away, out of the office.

     “Well?” Coulson asks Skye. “Say what you came to say.”

     “I want Ward off this plane,” Skye says bluntly.

   Coulson sucks in a sharp breath. “Wow. You’re not going to hold back, are you?”

     “He’s dangerous. I don’t trust him, and I don’t think you should, either. He’s got an unhealthy interest in Hanna and being near him makes me uncomfortable.”

     “Have you considered what’s best for him in all of this?” Coulson asks, and Skye pauses, because she hasn’t, not really.

     “Does it matter?” she asks, trying to bluster her way through his point. She knows it’s a good point. _Damn_.

     “Of course it matters, Skye. We’ve wiped his mind, and, prior to that, he willingly told us everything he knew about Hydra and their plans. By now they’ve figured out what he’s done – so not only is he in serious danger, but he has no idea how to protect himself.”

     “He looked like he was doing all right on the punching bag,” Skye notes.

     “Some of it’s muscle memory. Other aspects are filtering back in,” Coulson says. “He’s nowhere near ready yet.”

     “Get May to train him,” Skye says bluntly. “Make him ready, and then get him off this plane.”

     Coulson reaches into his pocket. “You know,” he says, “I haven’t had a chance to give you this yet.” He presses a folded piece of paper into Skye’s hand. “It’s from him.”

     Skye takes it. She clenches her fists around the paper and turns and walks away from Coulson, getting faster with every step until she’s running down the corridors away from the med pod, through the lab, up the stairs, and into her bunk, slamming the door.

     When she’s alone, and her breathing has slowed a little bit, she sits on her bed and removes the crumpled note from her fist. She unfolds it, smooths it out, and focuses her eyes on the paper.

_I’m sorry._

    Skye frowns. She turns the paper over. Nothing. She turns it back. Still just two words. She folds it closed and then opens it again, as if she’s expecting it to change. Nope.

     “Fuck,” she says clearly, and then, “I hate you. I hate you, Ward, you son of a bitch.” How could he do this to her? He turns her life upside-down and all he can give her is _this?_ Two bloody words? No explanation, no advice, nothing.

     Skye wants to scream. She can feel it building inside her, feel it catching at the edges of her throat. Holding herself back with difficulty, she crunches the paper in her fist. Then she grabs it, and tears it, ripping it into tiny pieces. She doesn’t stop until all of the paper is on the floor, in flakes too tiny for her to rip again, and her face is wet with tears.


	5. It's The Little Things

The next three weeks pass in a blur. The team follows a lead that Ward – the old Ward – had provided. It leads them to a woman who had formerly been in the Fridge. She’s been working closely with Hydra, supplying them with weapons and information accessed through her vast web of criminals and liars. No one slips through her net.

     They’re not SHIELD anymore, so they can’t exactly barge into her house and take her away. Still, Coulson calls the local intelligence agency, gives them the information that they need, and then the team stands nearby and watches as the woman is carted off in cuffs.

     “Hopefully,” Coulson says, “this will buy us some much-needed time.”

     As a reward, the team spends the night on the ground. Skye heads to a bar with Fitz, Jemma and Trip – and, to her disgust and discomfort, May accompanies Ward to the same bar. Skye spends the night alternately struggling to ignore Ward and fighting the urge to call Natasha and find out how Hanna is doing.

   When it’s late, and Fitzsimmons and Trip have decided to leave but Skye wants to stay and relish the night for a little longer, she catches the eye of a man across the bar. He winks. Skye tips her head to the side and smiles back at him, flirting. She gets that feeling – the feeling when you know exactly who you’re going to be spending the rest of the night with.

     Apparently the guy is feeling it too – either that, or he’s a cocky bastard – because he waltzes right over to her and asks if she wants to get out of here.

     There are a lot of factors in Skye’s reply. She thinks that it’s because she gave birth nine weeks ago and she wants to make sure that everything still works. She wants to _know_ that she’s still attractive, and that her life is still normal.

     Then again, maybe the only reason she’s doing this is because she can feel Ward’s hot eyes on her back.

     When they stumble into the back room of the bar, Skye kisses the guy and asks if he has a condom.

     “Don’t bother,” he says. “Just risk it.”

     Skye’s breast-feeding, so she’s pretty sure she can’t get pregnant. That said, she knows all too well what can happen from ‘risking it’. She grabs the guy’s hair and pulls, hard. “Get a condom.”

     He stares at her, and then he says, “Yeah, okay, good idea.”

***

Skye does the walk of shame back to the bus as the sun rises. Her hair is a mess, she’s wearing the same clothes that she wore yesterday, and honestly, she doesn’t really feel like that was worth it. Now she just feels dirty (literally, because she hasn’t showered yet) and sore and she really kind of wishes that her stubbornness and Ward’s presence at the bar last night hadn’t pressured her into this.

     Ward stands at the bottom of the ramp.

     “What the hell are you doing here?” Skye asks as she stomps past him. There’s a blister on her foot; probably because she’s walked all the way from the bar to the plane, since she missed the SUV that everyone else took.

     “Waiting for you,” Ward says. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

     “Well don’t,” Skye snaps.

     “Don’t what?”

     “Don’t wait for me.”

     Ward shrugs. He walks with her up the ramp, and then he says, “You left with someone last night. A man.”

     “Yeah?” Skye says belligerently. “So what?”

     “I didn’t like it,” Ward confesses. “It made me feel bad inside.” He puts his hand over his stomach. “Here.”

     “Why are you telling me this?”

     “Do you think I’m sick?”

     _Lovesick, maybe,_ Skye thinks, and then she’s furious with herself for even thinking that, because Ward doesn’t love her and she doesn’t love Ward and it’s none of his business who she leaves bars with. “Ask Simmons.”

     “I’m asking you.”

     “Look, Ward, I don’t really care if you’re sick or not. I care that you’re still talking to me when all I want to do is go and shower.”

     “Why did you leave with him?” Ward asks. “What did you do?”

     “Had sex,” Skye says, the words brisk and sharp and clipped, designed to hurt him.

     Instead, Ward just frowns. “What?”

     She stares at him for a minute, and has to fight the unprofessional urge to laugh. “Wow,” she manages eventually. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they? That’s some pretty basic knowledge you’ve lost there.”

     Ward looks crestfallen, but Skye ignores him. Let him wallow in his misery. All of this is his fault. She turns and walks away.

***

By the time she reaches Jemma, and the lounge, and her daughter, Skye is feeling awful in too many ways to count. The incidents of last night, followed by her encounter with Ward this morning, have left her physically and emotionally drained.

     Feeling like it’s a chore, she bends over to say hi to Hanna before she goes and showers. The baby stares at her, reaches her hands up to grasp at Skye’s ears and – suddenly – smiles. It’s not a little smile, either. It’s a huge, beaming, gummy thing. She’s looking right into Skye’s eyes and she is grinning her tiny head off and _oh_ , Skye feels better now.

     “Baby girl,” she whispers. “I love you, Hanna.”

     “What?” Jemma asks absently, and then she leans over to see and she laughs, short and shocked. “Oh my goodness! Is that her first smile?”

     “Yes,” Skye says proudly. “And she smiled for me.” And then she smiles back at Hanna and disentangles Hanna’s hands from her ears and her hair and walks off to shower.

     The bathroom is occupied, which doesn’t dissuade Skye. She hammers on the door with the flat of her hand and yells, “I need a shower!”

     The door swings open, so Skye shrugs and steps inside. Romanoff, who is wrapped in a towel and leaning over the sink to do her make-up in the mirror, turns and smiles at Skye.

     “Wow,” Skye says. “You’re all dolled up. What’s the occasion?”

     “I think I’m going to get Coulson to drop me off the next time we stop,” Natasha explains.

     “And you need mascara for that?”

     “Well, you know… you can never be too careful.”

     “Yes, because the mascara police might be waiting.” Skye steps over to the shower and twists the taps, holding her hand under it while she waits for the water to heat up. “I wish you wouldn’t leave.”

     “I know,” Natasha sighs. “You’ve told me.”

     “I’m serious,” Skye says. “I need you here.”

     “You’re more than capable of facing the world on your own, Skye.”

     The water in the shower heats up too fast and burns Skye’s fingers. She yanks her hand out with a wince and puts her fingers in her mouth. With her other hand, she turns the cold tap higher. Spitting her fingers out, Skye elaborates, “Yes, but it’s not just me. The team needs you too.” She takes a couple of steps over to the sink and elbows Natasha out of the way so that she can put her fingers under the cold water.

     “SHIELD doesn’t exist anymore,” Romanoff says. “I helped you. I don’t owe Coulson anything else.”

     “Shouldn’t you be putting yourself in the place where you can do the most good? Isn’t that your moral responsibility as a superhero?”

     Natasha makes her serious face. “I’m not a superhero,” she says. “I’m not any kind of hero.”

     “At least come back and visit,” Skye sighs, because she recognises that she’s lost this fight. Natasha pulls her close and Skye buries her head in the woman’s neck.

     “Of course I’ll visit,” Natasha promises, and then she is gone and Skye is alone in the room with a steaming shower and an ache in her chest.


	6. Not Quite Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't seen the finale yet! I'm so scared! I wanted to try and get this chapter out before I watched the episode, because this sort of cements the plot for the rest of Mindful - but I was seriously delayed by FLU, EW. 
> 
> On the plus side, I have an awful headache which is making me not want to watch Agents of SHIELD right now, so maybe I'll get another chapter done before the finale ruins everything! xD

“Ten weeks is a celebratory occasion,” Fitz announces, bringing cake into the lounge room. “Also Ward just asked me what sex is and I feel like I need cake to erase that from my mind.”

     Ward frowns from where he’s sitting, resting his chin in his hands. “I don’t understand why no one will tell me,” he complains.

     “Because it’s more fun if you find out by yourself,” Trip says. He and Fitz grin at each other.

     “You’re all so childish,” Jemma sighs, and she cuts the cake and starts passing slices around.

     “We should play a game, too,” Fitz says. “I like it when it’s like this. The whole team, eating cake and playing Monopoly.”

     “Not Monopoly,” Coulson immediately vetoes. “Settlers of Catan.”

     “No one actually understands how to play that game, Coulson,” Skye points out.

     Coulson looks offended. “ _I_ understand.”

     “I enjoy chess,” Ward offers.

     “Chess is a two-player game,” May reminds him.

     “Oh,” Ward says humbly. “Sorry.”

     The cake has been spread throughout the room and apparently it’s now ‘pass the baby’ time, so Skye hands Hanna over to Jemma, sitting beside her. “We could play Pictionary,” she suggests.

     “Or Charades!” Fitz exclaims eagerly as Jemma passes Hanna to him. He grins at the baby. “Hanna likes Charades.”

     “Please, Fitz,” Jemma scoffs, and Fitz mutters something unflattering and passes the baby off to Trip. “Scrabble?”

     “You always win Scrabble,” Skye tells Jemma sternly. “No more.”

     “Hey,” Trip protests as he gives the baby to Coulson. “You haven’t seen me play Scrabble yet.”

     “Wonderful. You two are a perfect couple.”

     Skye doesn’t miss the blush that spreads rosily up Jemma’s neck and over her cheeks. She thinks about commenting but doesn’t, because Fitz is already looking edgy.

     Coulson puts his forehead close to Hanna’s and whispers to her softly. It’s sweet, Skye thinks.

     “Can we please just pick a game?” May asks eventually, exasperated.

     “Yes,” Jemma agrees. “Trivial Pursuit.”

     “Oh god,” Skye groans, and she watches the progress of her daughter from Coulson’s arms to May’s.

     Fitz gets up and goes to the cupboard. “I’m making an executive decision,” he announces, and he pulls Monopoly from the bottom of the stack.

     Skye takes a bite of cake, watches Hanna’s huge dark eyes roving May’s face and her daughter’s little smile and happy squeal, and then May looks up and moves as if to pass the baby over to Ward.

     Jemma sucks in a sharp breath. Ward, too, looks terrified; he shrinks backwards away from the baby. May turns uncertain eyes to Skye.

     Skye takes a deep breath. “It’s okay,” she says.

     May leans over. She adjusts Ward’s arms. “Hold her like this.”

     “I don’t want to,” Ward mumbles. “What if she cries?”

     Skye gets up from her seat. She paces over to Ward and kneels down beside his feet. “Then you can give her to me.”

     Hanna moves from May’s arms into Ward’s, and the smile fades from her face. Her eyes go wide, serious and solemn. Ward stares back at her with the same expression. Behind her, somewhere, Skye hears the fake-shutter sound of a camera phone and she wonders who’s trying to capture this moment.

     “You still haven’t told me her name,” Ward says. Hanna twists her head from side to side in the crook of his elbow.

     “It’s Hanna,” Skye says softly.

     “Oh,” Ward murmurs. “She’s very small.”

     “Not as small as she used to be.”

     “You can have her back now.” Ward holds out his arms and Skye takes Hanna gently, lifts the baby to her shoulder and rises to her feet. “Thank you,” Ward adds.

     “Yeah,” Skye mutters. “Whatever.” Her moment of weakness has passed. She moves back to her spot on the lounge and lets Hanna lean against her.

     It’s hard, trying to balance her feelings. On the one hand, she remembers Ward the way he used to be. She remembers what she felt about him. On the other hand, though, the more recent ideas of Ward are still very firm in her mind. Ward the murderer. Ward the betrayer. It’s hard to look at this new Ward without seeing ghosts.

***

By the time they land in Romania, the whole team is antsy and eager to get off the plane. Skye in particular is looking forward to this outing. She’s somewhat concerned about leaving Hanna behind with Jemma, but freedom is beckoning.

     Fitz complains about Trip and his skills at Monopoly as they climb into the SUV.

     “I can’t help it that I have a frugal mind,” Triplett says sternly.

     “Hiding your money under the table so that we all think you’re poor is _cheating_.”

     “No it isn’t.”

     “I agree with Trip,” Skye says. “It’s not cheating – it’s an unexpected plot twist.”

     “Well – erk.” Fitz pauses and grabs onto Skye as the SUV hurtles over a pothole. “Could you be careful, May?” he calls forward to the driver’s seat.

     May doesn’t say anything, but Skye swears that the woman is smiling.

     “Let’s play corners!” Skye says eagerly, bouncing in her seat. “Come on…” she tilts towards Fitz as the car swings to the right, and feels Trip on her other side reluctantly leaning in.

     “No, ow, no,” Fitz complains. “This is a horrible game.”

     The car goes the other way and, in spite of his protests, Fitz struggles to force Skye and Trip into the opposite corner.

     “This is a _great_ game!” Skye cheers, and then something slams hard into the side of the SUV. The wheels skid and the brakes screech as May struggles to regain control of the car, and then they’re slipping and sliding and tumbling down the hill, rolling over and over. Skye’s whole body jerks sharply against her seatbelt and she hears Fitz, beside her, make a strangled noise, and then her head smacks sharply into the roof and everything goes black.


	7. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just briefly, I feel like I should warn that this chapter contains some... upsetting material. But you sort of anticipated that after the last chapter's ending, right?

Skye opens her eyes and she’s upside-down. She blinks, slowly, trying to force herself to focus. Her mind is sluggish and uncertain. There is blood trickling into one of her eyes. Blinking against the stinging pain, Skye turns her head to the side. Her neck aches and her muscles creak as she moves, and she sees Fitz, dangling against his seatbelt, crushed against the roof of the car just like she is. His eyes are closed.

     “Fitz,” Skye rasps. She tries to reach out for him but her arms are pinned by her sides. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, she turns her head back the other way. Triplett’s seatbelt has snapped and he is sprawled on the floor – which is really the roof. His arms and legs are tangled. His neck is bent at an unnatural angle. His eyes stare sightlessly. Skye sucks in a sharp breath and feels tears burning behind her eyes.

     She has to get out of here. That’s all she knows. Whoever hit them, chances are it was deliberate. Skye thinks that maybe the SUV’s tumble down the hill delayed their pursuers – either way, she has to leave. Fast.

     Her hands fumble up her body, fingers fluttering. There’s a sharp pain in her chest every time she breathes, and blood coats her hands, although she can’t say where it’s coming from. She reaches her waist, and moves her hands over, slowly, her biceps still pinned to her sides. Her fingers find the clasp of the seatbelt and she pushes down, hard. It releases and Skye falls to the roof with a thud, one arm still caught in the belt. She frees it with difficulty and then she crouches on hands and knees, feeling glass crunch beneath her. There’s a burning pain in her chest. She reaches out for Fitz.

     “Fitz,” she whispers. “Are you okay?” She touches his head, brushing sticky, bloody hair back from his forehead. “Please be okay.” She puts her fingers under his nose and tries to see if he’s breathing. She moves her hand down and presses it against his neck. She can’t feel a pulse – but that doesn’t mean anything, right? She’s probably just feeling in the wrong place.

     Where are May and Coulson? Skye jerks her head around and winces as she moves. She shuffles forward slowly, ducks to avoid the centre console and stares into the front seat.

     It’s a bloodbath up here. There is blood _everywhere…_ but neither May nor Coulson are in the car. “Coulson?” Skye tries to call, and her voice cracks. They must have been thrown out – or maybe they’re already headed back to the bus.

     She backs up and grabs Fitz’s shoulder again. “Fitz, please wake up,” she begs him. She presses the button for his seatbelt and he falls to the floor with a thump. Skye leans over him to open the back door, but it’s at the wrong angle, pressed up against the steep slope of the hill. She can’t get it open.

     Slowly, Skye turns to face Trip, behind her. She doesn’t want to touch him. She can’t bear this. She can’t do this. Help.

     Carefully, she crawls towards Trip. She doesn’t want to touch him; she can’t make herself check for a pulse, not when she knows she won’t find one. Instead, she just reaches over him and holds her breath and tugs on the doorhandle and the door springs open… and the whole car creaks.

     Skye freezes. She can see clearly now that the door is open, and she realises that they are balanced on the side of the hill – balanced incredibly precariously. If she tries to get out of Trip’s door, the entire car might fall.

     “Help me,” Skye whispers, but unless there’s divine intervention, she doesn’t think she’s going to see anyone coming. She can’t put her weight, Trip’s weight and Fitz’s weight all on the one side of the car. There’s only one solution that Skye can think of – and it makes her sick.

     She spends a few minutes checking on Fitz, to delay the inevitable. There’s blood on his head, neck, face and hands. He’s in bad shape. Then Skye checks her own wounds. Her head is bleeding, too. The blood is thick and matted at the back, which explains her headache. There’s a long cut on her forehead, which has trailed blood into her hair while she was upside down and is starting to drip the other way now. There’s a cut on her cheekbone, just under her left eye. That was what trailed blood into her eye before. Her lip is split and she thinks she bit her tongue on the way down, because she tastes a lot of blood.

     The car creaks and tilts and Skye swears. She can’t wait any longer. She takes a deep breath and moves over to Trip and says, “I’m really sorry, Trip.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

     It takes nearly three minutes to shove Triplett’s body out of the car. Skye is sobbing and heaving with her hands and her shoulders and her feet and when he finally tumbles free she takes huge gasping breaths and can’t bear to look. She hears his body roll down the hill. It’s the worst sound she can ever imagine.

     She can’t stop, though, so now that the weight is more evenly distributed she grabs Fitz by the collar and starts heaving him towards the open door. Skye sits on the edge and feels the car groaning and she jumps out, landing unevenly on the hill. She twists her ankle, and falls, and rolls a little way before she can regain her feet.

     “It’s okay, Fitz,” she mumbles through the blood in her mouth. “Hang on.” She moves up the hill towards the car again and reaches in and grabs Fitz’s arm. “Come on, Fitz.” She pulls at him. “Come on.”

     Suddenly, the car tips and rolls. Skye screams, and then it strikes her, a glancing blow on her shoulder, and it tumbles, it falls, it shudders down the hill. _Fitz_.

     Skye can’t move. She can’t breathe, she can’t see, all she knows is pain. _Fitz_. She tries to move, to struggle, but she doesn’t know which way she’s going. Up or down the hill? _Fitz_. Her shoulder is bleeding, it’s gushing blood, and her chest is aching and throbbing. She can’t _breathe_.

     No. No, she has to breathe, she has to move, she has to get to Fitz. Skye forces air into her lungs. She turns her head and she pushes herself onto hands and knees, because she thinks if she stands up then her head might fall off. She moves down the hill, slowly, shuffling on the leaves and sticks.

     Her knee slips. She kicks out her leg, trying to regain her balance, and she goes over, tripping and rolling on her side. The stabbing pain in her shoulder gets worse and she screams out with the pain, can’t help it, can’t fight it. Her head slams against the base of a tree. Everything hurts. She can’t move. _Fitz_ , she thinks, and then the world swirls around her and goes black.

     Skye doesn’t know how much later it is when she opens her eyes. She can’t see anything in front of her, just dirt and leaf litter. She thinks, _Fitz_.

     Gradually, she becomes aware that there’s a sound, there’s a noise above her like a buzzing bee. It’s louder than a bee, though, it’s a drone, a dull roar, a helicopter.

     No. Skye’s brain works its way into rational thought, and she realises, not a helicopter. A _plane_. Her plane. Their plane.

     The bus lands on the road above the hill, coming down vertically. Skye is crying, there are tears slipping down her face and stinging in her cuts. Slowly, but surely, she begins to struggle her way up the hill. She has to tell them what happened, where Fitz is. She has to tell them about Trip. Oh god, how can she tell them that?

     Maybe, Skye thinks, May and Coulson have already told everyone. They have to be on the bus, don’t they? That’s why the bus is here.

     She claws her way up the hill through sheer stubbornness, and when she reaches the lip of the road, her hands grasping at the tufts of grass growing there, she sees that the ramp to the cargo hold is opening, slowly.

     “Help!” Skye croaks, and she forces her body up onto the road, flopping like a fish out of water. “Please!” Her legs feel like jelly. She curls them under her and forces herself to stand, knees bent, arms hanging, struggling to balance. One leg at a time. She moves her feet forwards and keeps her eyes down so that she can’t see how slowly she’s approaching.

     The ramp is beneath her. Skye could cry with relief – she thinks she is still crying – and she drops to her knees and crawls up the ramp. It is the hardest journey she has ever made.

     “Please,” she calls, and falls to the ground in the cargo hold. “Please.” Why is nobody coming? Where are they all? “Fitz!” she hollers; at least, she tries to holler, but her voice is gone, it’s fading, it’s a cracked murmur. “You need to help Fitz.”

     They can’t hear her. She has to find them. Skye forces herself up again, her head wobbling. She thinks this might be the most difficult thing she has ever done in her life. It’s worse than giving birth. It’s worse than everything.

     Skye staggers into the lab. She trips and falls twice, bruising limbs that are already bruised and bloody. She leans against the bench and with the last of her strength, she gasps out, “Jemma,” in a wheeze.

     There’s something lying on the holotable. Skye narrows her eyes, but she can’t see through the film of blood that has hazed over her vision, and so she moves closer. She leans on the benches, she uses them as props, she inches towards the table.

     It’s red. There is red dripping from the edge of the holotable and onto the floor. Slowly, unbearably slowly, Skye raises her eyes.

     Hanna. Hanna is lying in the middle of the holotable. Hanna is bleeding, Hanna is broken, Hanna is hurt.

     Skye tries to speak, she tries to reach for her daughter, but her body has finally stopped working. She falls backwards and she stares at the ceiling and she _needs_ her daughter, she needs her baby girl. _Hanna Hanna Hanna Hannahannahannahannahannahannahannahannahannahannahanna…._

***

Skye wakes up.

     “Hanna!” she screams out, and she lunges forward, jerking against the restraints that hold her to the chair.

     Someone’s hand strokes across her hair. “It’s all right,” a voice soothes. Calm, confident, gentle. “You’re all right.” _Jemma_ , she thinks, but something isn’t right.

     Skye pants. “Where’s Hanna?”

     “I’m sure Hanna will be fine, Skye,” the person murmurs in her ear, and suddenly it twigs. Skye knows what is wrong. She hears it. This person _is not English_.

     “Who are you?” she asks, and she turns her head, trying to see, trying to understand. “Where am I?”

     Raina moves around the chair and crouches in front of Skye. “You’re safe,” she says, and Skye feels the bottom drop out of her world.


	8. Epilogue

“You’ve fractured two ribs and we think you may have punctured a lung,” Raina informs her calmly. “Try not to move.”

     Skye is struggling to understand. “Where…”

     “Don’t worry,” Raina reassures her, “we’ll work on all of your medical issues as soon as possible.” She moves around behind Skye again and frees her arms from the chair. “You were very banged up when we found you.”

     “Where’s my team?” Skye stammers. There’s dried blood on her face and fresh blood welling up through her shirt.

     “Ouch,” Raina says, noticing the blood. “That one looks nasty.” She peels Skye’s shirt away from her skin, pulls the front of it down. There’s a gash moving across the top of Skye’s breast – it’s deep. She can see tissue.

     “Why am I here?” she manages. It’s hard to talk. She can’t seem to get enough air.

     “Just relax,” Raina tells her. “We’re going to fix you up, okay? Try and stand.”

     Skye can’t stand. Her legs won’t support her.

     “Try and put your arm over my shoulders,” Raina says, but Skye’s shoulder is cut and bleeding. She stares at it and then she thinks _Fitz_ and in an instant it all comes flooding back.

     “My daughter,” Skye spits out. There’s blood in her mouth. She pulls away from Raina and gathers all her strength and screams, “Where is my _daughter?!_ ” and then she passes out.

***

When Skye wakes, Garrett is bending down to peer into her eyes. He smiles when he sees them open, lifts his eyebrows mockingly, and stands up again.

     “Tell me what the hell you did to my team,” Skye says firmly – or, at least, she tries to be firm. It’s hard when she can’t breathe and her head is spinning. “Where are they?”

     “How would I know?” Garrett asks calmly. “Probably still in that flaming car wreck at the bottom of the hill.”

     The car hadn’t been flaming – had it? Skye can’t remember. “Are they alive?”

     “How the hell should I know?” Garrett shrugs. “We found you passed out in your plane and brought you here.”

     “Where was everyone else in the plane?”

     “I assume Ward took care of them,” Garrett says confidently. “He’s around here somewhere, but he’s a bit preoccupied with some Hydra issues, otherwise I’m sure he’d love to come and say hello.”

     Skye believes him. She really does. She’d expected something like this from Ward – but it’s belligerence and defiance that makes her say, “You’re lying. Ward is gone.”

     To her amazement, Garrett’s face twists sideways in disappointment. “Really? Coulson took care of him? Well, I sure wasn’t expecting _that_.”

     He lied, Skye thinks. If he lied about Ward, what else was he lying about? “My daughter,” she rasps out.

     “Ah, yes. What was her name again?”

     Skye keeps her mouth shut, but Raina says, “Hanna.” She’d remembered the name that Skye had been calling out when she’d first awoken.

     “Hanna,” Garrett nods. “You would not believe that such a tiny body could hold so much blood.”

     Skye hurls herself at him and he dodges and laughs and she lands heavily on the floor. Pain lances through her once again.

     “You should stop moving,” Raina murmurs. “The doctors will be here soon.”

     Skye spits blood onto the floor. “I don’t want your doctors.” She lifts her head and looks up at Garrett. “What else are you lying about?”

     He smiles infuriatingly. “I don’t know. What am I lying about?” He looks away from her, then, over to Raina. “Get her the medical treatment she needs,” he says. “Ask them to have a poke around while they’re in there – see if they can find anything. When she’s fixed up, take her to her room and alert me. I need to talk to her.”

     “Absolutely,” Raina says.

     Skye stares at the floor as Garrett leaves the room. She knows he’s a liar. She tries to fix that in her mind, to convince herself that _none_ of it was real. Her team is fine, they’re safe, they’re alive and they’re waiting for her to escape. She has to get the hell out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I want to go for my first three-part series. So... yay! xD


End file.
